


Bucky Barnes: Internet Sensation

by the_wordbutler



Series: Motion Practice [43]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, motion practice universe, the perils of the internet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 15:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8584429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wordbutler/pseuds/the_wordbutler
Summary: On Saturday, Bucky jokes around with Peter Parker.By Sunday, the internet picks up the thread. Literally and figuratively.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, the mascot of the University of Ames are the Buccaneers. Otherwise, I blame this story on other people's excellent internet-based stories.
> 
> Thanks as always to my beta-readers, Jen and saranoh, for joining me on this wild ride.

Here's how Bucky discovers he's an internet sensation: Clint calls.

Clint calls at six in the morning on Sunday, when the blinds still hold the August glare at bay, and Bucky groans as he accepts the call. "Somebody better be dead," he growls. "Like, Phil better be lying in the bottom of a fucking ditch, 'cause nothing else—"

"Did you compare the university football players to One Direction?" Clint interrupts. He sounds breathless, like he's laughing.

Bucky drags a hand over his face. "What?"

"Yesterday, to Parker." The words sound garbled to Bucky's sleep-addled brain, like the guy's speaking Russian, and he sits up. Well, okay, he _tries_ sitting up, but Steve grumbles and drags him closer. "You handled that bond hearing, right? Couple reporters outside the building, like flies around a dumpster?"

"Tony'd love that metaphor," Bucky returns, and the other guy snorts. Still, the hearing yesterday feels a lot like a fever dream: the frantic call from the judicial assistant who'd fucked up the phone tree; Bucky ducking out of Dot's soccer game to drive across town; fielding a hearing in jeans and the spare button-down from his office. And yeah, he vaguely remembers a couple people from the _Bugle_ 's digital team hovering around the back steps, but he never said anything substantial to them.

Right?

"Somebody die?" Steve asks, his voice muffled against Bucky's skin.

Bucky reaches back to card fingers through his hair. "Day's young," he replies. "Go back to sleep."

"Do you seriously not remember?" Clint wonders as Bucky wanders into the kitchen. He swipes the iPad off the counter and unlocks it without really thinking. "'Cause Stark's usually the one mouthing off to the press, not—"

"You purposely sounding like your husband or what?" Bucky cuts him off, and he grins into the pissed-off silence. "And, for the record, I don't remember much. Call sort of caught me off guard. But I swear I would've remembered saying . . . "

The result of his Google search ( _ua buccaneers football one direction district attorney_ ) loads, and the words curl up and die in the back of his throat.

"You googled it, didn't you?" Clint asks. The asshole sounds like he's smirking.

Bucky exhales. "Shit."

Because the first hit, an actual digital-first piece written by Darcy's guy, that's not a problem. Even in an office big as theirs, Bucky's name still pops up in the paper sometimes, either because of actual work or some of their community outreach projects. No, the shit storm starts afterward, with the tweets.

The literal fucking sea of tweets.

Complete with the hashtag #whatmakesUAbuccaneers. Which, despite the wordplay, leaves him feeling pretty queasy. 

"You see the official shit from the university?" Clint's voice startles Bucky out of clicking on the hashtag, but the question's fucking gleeful. "Bet they'll turn this into a social media campaign. Like, I'd put ten bucks on it." He snorts, and Bucky almost groans. "No pun intended, by the way, but fuck if I'm not using that at work tomorrow."

Bucky massages his forehead. "Clint?"

"Yeah."

"I'm hanging up on you."

The guy's still laughing when he thumbs the _end call_ button.

 

==

 

When Steve wakes up an hour later, Bucky's still sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the iPad. He pauses in the doorway. Even stops scratching his stomach under his t-shirt, a sure sign that Bucky's face looks ghostly.

He purses his lips before asking, "Everything okay?"

Bucky sighs. "Depends on your definition," he replies, and holds out the iPad.

 

==

 

Monday morning, the breakroom boasts a giant banner that reads, _"I don't care if they're football players or the newest members of One Direction, I'm still charging them with battery."_ Several of the letters sparkle.

Bucky gapes at it for a while, his mouth almost falling open. In fact, he stands there long enough that Natasha wanders in and pours a cup of coffee.

"Glitter glue," she says, and he jerks out of his shock to blink at her. She nods to the banner. "The outlines. That's why they sparkle."

"Is that supposed to make this better?" he wonders, eyebrows raised.

She shrugs. "You looked confused," she replies, mug halfway to her lips, "and I know glitter glue when I see it."

 

==

 

Back in his office, he sends Stark an e-mail: _I fucking hate you sometimes._

His Outlook pings all of ten seconds later. _yeah yeah, but you gotta admit, amy's glitter skills are on point_

 

==

 

"Please tell me I missed something, 'cause from where I'm standing, you responded to a reporter's question with a crack about a boy band."

Fury plants his hands on his hips, and Bucky almost closes his eyes. Over on the television the morning newscaster stands completely still, her whole body frozen mid-gesture. Behind her, the words _hip or flip?_ hover just above a photograph of the guys from One Direction.

Bucky wonders if a chasm will open up and swallow him whole. "I—"

"Answered Peter Parker's completely reasonable question about a high-profile case by joking around?" Fury prompts, and Bucky swallows instead of answering. "You know, I expect shit like this from other people in the office. Stark, for example. Hill, if you catch her in the wrong mood. But finding out the one person with common sense running around this office can't keep his mouth shut, that's—"

"He shoved his recorder in my face!" Bucky throws up his hands, his voice almost echoing, and Fury blinks in surprise. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I didn't expect we'd have weekend charging, okay? I ran right out of Dot's soccer game and into this mess. Not that it excuses what happened, but . . . " He shakes his head. "I thought Parker knew I was being sarcastic. I didn't expect the clickbait."

Fury raises an eyebrow. "You know how the internet works, right?"

Bucky shrugs. "Apparently, not well enough."

 

==

 

The online bulletin board for the Buccaneers—because shit like that still exists in certain corners of the internet—features a giant post about the whole debacle, including a link to the article, a YouTube clip of that morning's newscast, and a series of animated gifs.

Bucky almost falls out of his chair when he spots those, and he parades his cell phone down the hall to Steve's office.

"How?" he demands, and he tries hard to ignore the way his husband chokes on a laugh. "That clip's at least a year old! Back from when we helped with National Night Out and totally unrelated to this."

Steve rolls his lips together. "Yeah, but if you squint, it looks like—"

Bucky snatches the phone away. "Watch it, punk," he warns, and Steve ducks his head to hide his grin.

The comments on the post (which Bucky reads, despite the whole _never touch the comments_ thing) range from lightly amused to deeply offended. A couple people joke about his name—because it's apparently hilarious that Buchanan'd mock the Buccaneers?—and a handful parody some One Direction lyrics, but most read like they're written by testosterone-fueled spambots, full of errors and insults. The first time he hits a commenter who speculates about his sexuality, he tosses his phone down and walks away.

Assholes.

When he returns a half-hour later, he discovers a text message from Darcy. _he's really sorry. he thought it was funny, and since that digital stuff's all about the clicks . . ._

Bucky drums his fingers against the side of his phone. _Don't worry_ , he finally writes. _Peter's not the one I'm pissed at_.

 

==

 

That night, their local sportscaster covers the Buccaneers' preseason press conference, complete with a reference to Bucky's stupid comment. Dot stops coloring at the coffee table to frown. "Did he just say your name?" she asks, tipping her head back.

Bucky considers smothering himself with a couch pillow. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I opened my mouth without thinking."

His daughter nods slightly, like she's examining his answer for any obvious holes. Finally, she shrugs. "My teacher says I do that, too," she admits, and Steve almost snorts beer up his nose.

(Two hours later, SportsCenter reads out the story as filler.

"I'm moving away," Bucky decides, pressing his face into Steve's bicep. "Somewhere cold and anonymous, like Romania. Russia, even. You can come if you want."

"Kind of you," Steve says, but amused as he sounds, he tugs Bucky a little closer on the couch.)

 

==

 

On the third morning of his internet fame, one of the interns stops at his office door.

She chews on her lower lip, her eyes darting between Bucky and her phone like she's _not_ hovering in plain view. Twice, she opens her mouth, pauses, and closes it again. Twice, Bucky barely resists his urge to roll his eyes.

Finally, though, she asks, "Do you know what tumblr is?" 

His stomach clenches. "Do I want to?"

She glances at her phone, her lips pursed. "Probably not, actually."

"That's what I thought," Bucky replies, and she nods before wandering away.

 

==

 

"Yeah, the internet's collective memory is huge," Steve says at lunch, bumping their arms together, "but it's short. Like a goldfish."

"Uh, that's actually a misconception." Bucky blinks, but Wade Wilson just shrugs and reaches for the hot sauce. "That whole thing about fish having a three-second memory? That's a myth. You can train them with, like, colored lights. And music, I think. And some remember things for at _least_ —"

Bucky groans quietly, and Clint flicks his straw wrapper at his friend. "What's wrong with you?" he demands. "My text said to shut up about the One Direction thing, and you—"

"Talked about goldfish!" Wade retorted, raising his hands. "All true facts I learned from Hope's research project, by the way. You should see the PowerPoint transitions. All of them with water sound effects, not that she really appreciated them." He glances over to Steve and Bucky. "She's deaf."

Natasha sighs. "You tell them that every time you see them, Wade."

"Well, I just don't want them thinking that a child of almost-mine would scoff at quality sound effects," Wade defends, and Bucky contemplates drowning himself in salsa.

 

==

 

"My point is that the internet will forget."

Steve's whisper travels through Bucky like an electric shock, but he still sighs as he shoves his husband away. "You're supposed to be distracting me," he complains, "not—"

"I'm multitasking," Steve cuts in. He slides his hand over Bucky's stomach, and his traitorous body clenches. Steve's grin shines like the sun. "Even if its collective memory's longer than three seconds, somebody's bound to shove their foot in their mouth. Shift the spotlight."

He kisses Bucky's good shoulder, his teeth just barely grazing the skin, and Bucky sighs as he threads fingers through that familiar blonde hair. "Last time you multitasked," he says, "you packed Dot's markers in her lunchbox."

Steve snorts and rolls his eyes. "You're a jerk," he retorts, but Bucky reels him in for a kiss anyway.

 

==

 

Two days later, Tony breaks the curse.

On the back steps of the judicial complex, and in full view of at least four different reporters, he flips his sunglasses on his head and declares, "After a day like today, I'd literally trade my first-born child for a pepperoni pizza and a blowjob."

Natasha rolls her eyes, Clint pretends to gag, and Bruce smiles even as he shakes his head.

But Bucky purposely waits for one of the reporters to whip out his phone to pat Tony on the shoulder. "Thanks," he says, grinning.

Tony scowls. "For what?"

Bucky shrugs. "You'll see in the morning," he replies, and behind him, Steve just laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> Next week, Sara and I will be reunited for Thanksgiving. We plan on putting together another Video Q&A. [Ask us some questions!](http://the-wordbutler.tumblr.com/post/153272801662/video-qa) We'll answer them in our normal charming fashion!


End file.
